


A New Life

by fransoun



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25, my fic for the TEMPERED STEEL zine!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 16:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fransoun/pseuds/fransoun
Summary: Rodimus joins Minimus on Luna-1, and together they try to forge a new life.





	A New Life

"And this," Minimus said, "is the Transformation Room."

Rodimus followed him inside. "I thought you were working for Prowl."

"I am." Minimus fidgeted a little. "But I have found I enjoy assisting Anode and Lug with the new protoforms."

Rodimus looked around, apparently very curious to see what Minimus Ambus had found himself 'enjoying'.

Blocks of every shape had been deliberately scattered across the floor. In one corner, Rodimus saw spheres and cones, cubes and pyramids with the points sanded down to protect unarmored _sentio metallico_. Another corner held more complex shapes, like springs and gears. There were cutouts of the shapes, too - as Rodimus watched, a protoform bunched itself up into a rectangle and launched itself up into the air, falling neatly back down through a rectangle-shaped hole. It landed on the floor and beeped proudly before rolling away. 

In a third corner, a work table held uncarved blocks and sheets of metal, while the walls of the room itself had been painted a very familiar shade of pink. Rodimus turned to ask Minimus about it, but Minimus was very deliberately not meeting his gaze.

Several protoforms came bouncing over to investigate the newcomers, so Rodimus crouched down to meet them instead. He held out his hand, and one promptly began trying to roll up into his palm.

"I thought we started out already knowing what shape we'd be," he said, watching the bean-shaped lump of metal as it bumped against his fingers.

Minimus knelt down next to him. "As did I. But Anode believes that may not be true after all."

"Really?"

Minimus nodded. "Her theory is that when our sparks ignite, the coding within might contain certain preferences - to fly rather than drive, for instance - but not necessarily one true form. Some sparks might have a very strong preference, but others might not have any at all."

The loadbearer gestured around the room. "All of this is to help them learn." 

"Huh."

Rodimus was regarding Minimus intently, tilting his head first to one side, then the other. Minimus flushed under his gaze. 

"What?"

Rodimus smiled fondly. "Just trying to imagine you as a race car."

Minimus sputtered indignantly, and Rodimus laughed.

"So if that's the case, then why do so many of the - what did you call them? Lunabots?"

"Lunarians," Minimus corrected.

"Right. Why do so many of the Lunarians have those glasses things and the, y'know - "

Rodimus moved his hands, eliciting a squawk of protest from the determined protoform, and made a circle on his chest, mimicking a piece of translucent plating above his spark.

Minimus sighed. "We don't know. It's the one sticking point in Anode's theory. She thinks it might have something to do with them coming from the same hotspot."

He coughed self-consciously. "Apparently she got the idea when she saw my facial insignia. My brother had one as well."

"I've always thought your mustache was cute."

Minimus flushed, and Rodimus grinned.

"So do they remember you when they grow up?" he asked.

Minimus shook his head. "No. But Anode has interviewed many of them about their experiences as protoforms, and they do report feeling 'safe' and 'cared for'."

He looked down to watch the little protoform now trundling about between their feet. "For me, that is sufficient."

A hand covered his. Minimus looked up to see Rodimus smiling at him. When Minimus didn't move his hand away, Rodimus gently twined their fingers together.

"They're lucky to have you. So am I."

Minimus felt his breath catch. He couldn't seem to look away from Rodimus' optics, that bright Matrix blue he remembered so well. The protoform, perhaps sensing something in their fields, rolled unconcernedly away.

Minimus hardly noticed. He drew closer to Rodimus, almost unconsciously, pulled towards him like a moon around its own personal sun, and it said something about what Rodimus did to him that Minimus barely registered a complaint at the astronomical inaccuracy of his own internal metaphor. He leaned in, fuel pump pounding - 

\- and his internal chronometer went off. He'd lost track of the time. He had his daily briefing with Prowl in five minutes.

Minimus pulled away, stammering. Rodimus tilted his head, his optics searching Minimus' in a wordless question of his own.

"I - I have a meeting. Will you be here - will you be alright here until I get back?"

Rodimus tugged him in again, just for a moment, just long enough to press a kiss, quick and chaste and full of promise, before answering the question Minimus had wanted to ask, instead of the one he had. 

"I'll be here when you get back."

Rodimus _was _still there when Minimus returned, seated on the floor among the protoforms. They had gathered around him, their small size drawing them to Rodimus' abundant warmth.

He had clearly been busy in Minimus' absence. The work table was now covered in curls of metal, the same shavings that Minimus remembered from Rodimus' carvings on his desk aboard the Lost Light. And all around Rodimus and the protoforms sat Rodimus' creations - pieces of metal carved in the shape of Minimus' mustache. 

Minimus felt that flash of almost-hurt in his spark, that almost-hurt he had almost hoped he would never have to feel again, ashamed of his appearance, of who he was -

Rodimus looked up at him and smiled. "Look, Minimus! They do remember you! And it's their favorite shape, too!"

\- and the hurt washed away in a tide of sunlight. 

Minimus crouched down. Every one of the protoforms had indeed taken on the shape of his mustache. He gently scooped up one of them and lifted it to his face. The protoform squealed and bounced proudly off of Minimus' mustache, evidently very pleased that it had matched the original. Then it squished itself flat - down now. Minimus obliged, and the little mustache reformed on the floor and wriggled away.

Rodimus was still watching him, a tentative look of desperate hope on his upturned face. Minimus remembered that look. He sat down next to Rodimus.

"Your favorite shape, too?" he asked.

Rodimus nodded emphatically.

So Minimus kissed him then, mustache and all - a full-on, proper kiss, to allow Rodimus to really appreciate it, and him. 

And Rodimus did.

When they finally broke apart, Minimus rose and went to sit at the work table, gesturing for Rodimus to turn around. Rodimus obliged, wiggling around on the floor, careful of the protoforms, and looking curiously back over his shoulder.

"I'm going to carve my favorite shape for them, too."

And Minimus picked up Rodimus' knife, still warm in the palm of his hand, and began to trace out the shape of Rodimus' spoiler.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my contribution to TEMPERED STEEL, an IDW Rodimags zine! This was my first time modding a zine, and it was such a wonderful experience.


End file.
